Part 9 (1/2)
I now started my fresco act on the walls of the Douve farm.
I spent most of the day on the job, and discovered how some startling effects could be produced.
Materials were: A bottle of Indian ink, a couple of brushes, about a hundredweight of useless charcoal, and a G.S. blue and red pencil.
Amongst the rough sketches that I did that day were the original drawings for two subsequent ”Fragments” of mine.
One was the rough idea for ”They've evidently seen me,” and the other was ”My dream for years to come.” The idea for ”They've evidently seen me” came whilst carrying back that table to St. Yvon, as I mentioned in a previous chapter, but the scenario for the idea was not provided for until I went to this farm some time later. In intervals of working at the walls I rambled about the farm building, and went up into a loft over a barn at the end of the farm nearest the trenches. I looked out through a hole in the tiles just in time to hear a sh.e.l.l come over from away back amongst the Germans somewhere, and land about five hundred yards to the left. The sentence, ”They've evidently seen me,” came flas.h.i.+ng across my mind again, and I now saw the correct setting in my mind: _i.e._, the enthusiastic observer looking out of the top of a narrow chimney, whilst a remarkably well-aimed sh.e.l.l leads ”him of the binoculars” to suppose that they _have_ seen him.
I came downstairs and made a pencil sketch of my idea, and before I left the trenches that time I had done a wash drawing and sent it to England.
This was my second ”Fragment.”
The other sketch, ”My dream for years to come,” was drawn on one wall of a small apple or potato room, opening off our big room, and the drawing occupied the whole wall.
[Ill.u.s.tration: porters]
I knocked off drawing about four o'clock, and did a little of the alternative occupation, that of looking out through the cracked windows on to the mutilated courtyard in front. It was getting darker now, and nearing the time when I had to put on all my tackle, and gird myself up for my round of the trenches. As soon as it was nearly dark I started out. The other officers generally left a bit later, but as I had such a long way to go, and as I wanted to examine the country while there was yet a little light, I started at dusk. Not yet knowing exactly how much the enemy could see on the open mud flat, I determined to go along by the river bank, and by keeping among the trees I hoped to escape observation. I made for the Douve, and soon got along as far as the row of farms. I explored all these, and a shocking sight they were. All charred and ruined, and the skeleton remains slowly decomposing away into the unwholesome ground about them. I went inside several of the dismantled rooms. Nearly all contained old and battered bits of soldiers' equipment, empty tins, and remnants of Belgian property. Sad relics of former billeting: a living reminder of the rough times that had preceded our arrival in this locality. I pa.s.sed on to another farm, and entered the yard near the river. It was nearly full of black wooden crosses, roughly made and painted over with tar. All that was left to mark the graves of those who had died to get our trenches where they were--at the bottom of the Messines ridge. A bleak and sombre winter's night, that courtyard of the ruined farm, the rows of crosses--I often think of it all now.
As the darkness came on I proceeded towards the trenches, and when it had become sufficiently dark I entered the old farm by the reserve trench and crossed the yard to enter the field which led to the first of our trenches. At St. Yvon it was pretty airy work, going the rounds at night, but this was a jolly sight more so. The country was far more open, and although the Boches couldn't see us, yet they kept up an incessant sniping demonstration. Picking up my sergeant at Number 1 trench, he and I started on our tour.
We made a long and exhaustive examination that night, both of the existing machine-gun emplacements and of the entire ground, with a view to changing our positions. It was a long time before I finally left the trenches and started off across the desolate expanse to the Douve farm, and I was dead beat when I arrived there. On getting into the big room I found the Colonel, who had just come in. ”Where's that right-hand gun of yours, Bairnsfather?” he asked. ”Down on the right of Number 2 trench, sir,” I answered; ”just by the two willows near the sap which runs out towards Number 1.” ”It's not much of a place for it,” he said; ”where we ought to have it is to the right of the sap, so that it enfilades the whole front of that trench.” ”When do you want it moved, sir?” I asked.
”Well, it ought to be done at once; it's no good where it is.”
That fixed it. I knew what he wanted; so I started out again, back over the mile and a half to alter the gun. It was a weary job; but I would have gone on going back and altering the whole lot for our Colonel, who was the best line in commanding officers I ever struck. Every one had the most perfect confidence in him. He was the most sh.e.l.l, bullet, and bomb defying person I have ever seen. When I got back for the second time that night I was quite ready to roll up in the straw, and be lulled off to sleep by the cracking rifle fire outside.
CHAPTER XIX
VISIONS OF LEAVE--d.i.c.k TURPIN--LEAVE!
Our first time in the Douve trenches was mainly uneventful, but we all decided it was not as pleasant as St. Yvon. For my part, it was fifty per cent. worse than St. Yvon; but I was now buoyed up by a new light in the sky, which made the first time in more tolerable than it might otherwise have been. It was getting near my turn for leave! I had been looking forward to this for a long time, but there were many who had to take their turn in front of me, so I had dismissed the case for a bit.
Recently, however, the powers that be had been sending more than one officer away at a time; consequently my turn was rapidly approaching. We came away back to billets in the usual way after our first dose of the Douve, and all wallowed off to our various billeting quarters. I was hot and strong on the leave idea now. It was really getting close and I felt disposed to find everything _couleur de rose_. Even the manure heap in the billeting farm yard looked covered with roses. I could have thrown a bag of confetti at the farmer's wife--it's most exhilarating to think of the coming of one's first leave. One maps out what one will do with the time in a hundred different ways. I was wondering how I could manage to transport my souvenirs home, as I had collected a pretty good supply by this time--sh.e.l.l cases, fuse tops, clogs, and that Boche rifle I got on Christmas Day.
One morning (we had been about two days out) I got a note from the Adjutant to say I could put in my application. I put it in all right and then sat down and hoped for the best.
My spirits were now raised to such a pitch that I again decided to ride to Nieppe--just for fun.
I rode away down the long winding line, smiling at everything on either side--the three-sailed windmill with the top off; the estaminet with the hole through the gable end--all objects seemed to radiate peace and goodwill. There was a very bright sun in the sky that day. I rode down to the high road, and cantered along the gra.s.s at the side into Nieppe.
Just as I entered the town I met a friend riding out. He shouted something at me. I couldn't hear what he said. ”What?” I yelled.
”All leave's cancelled!”
That was enough for me. I rode into Nieppe like an infuriated cowboy. I went straight for the divisional headquarters, flung away the horse and dashed up into the building. I knew one or two of the officers there.
”What's this about leave?” I asked. ”All about to be cancelled,” was the reply. ”If you're quick, you may get yours through, as you've been out here long enough, and you're next to go.” ”What have I got to do?” I screamed. ”Go to your Colonel, and ask him to wire the Corps headquarters and ask them to let you go; only you'll have to look sharp about it.”
He needn't have told me that. He had hardly finished before I was outside and making for my horse. I got out of Nieppe as quickly as I could, and lit out for our battalion headquarters. About four miles to go, but I lost no time about it. ”Leave cancelled!” I hissed through the triangular gap in my front tooth, as I galloped along the road; ”leave cancelled!”